Hampered Poem by Ima Ryma

When my wife would do laundry, I
Would find some reason to complain.
And so such finding fault was why
She ruled the laundry my domain.
I said okay cuz I was sure
That I could do a better job.
The response that I got from her
Was dirty laundry by the gob.
I sorted, I washed and I dried,
Then I folded the laundry quite well.
I took it to my wife with pride,
But lost my grip and it all fell.

My wife giggled as I was told,
'Too bad it all had to unfold.'